July 30, 2009

TERRY NICHOLS IS IRREGULAR: Remember Mr. Nichols, that nice man who got a little killy with 146 adults and 19 children at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building? Well he's all upset and stuff 'cause the cuisine at Supermax is blocking his choo-choo from pulling into the station. Yeah, we're sure the guards will get right on that, Terry-kins.

McPOOP: One day, in the glorious mecca of Regina Saskatchewan, a woman went to McDonalds for some coffee. Unfortch, upon deciding her cup o' joe tasted a tad nutty, she found a round brown floaty object bobbin' in her cup. She claims it's poop. She's suing. Um, isn't suing McDonalds for serving sh*t a little like suing a baptist for obesity? Neither is pleasant, but both are inevitable.

DYNO THE POOP DOG: Daniel Blair of Middlesex's face was red when he accidentally flushed his puppy dog down the terlit. The week-old cocker spaniel was eventually found clogging the sewer pipe 400 yards away, and rescued. Yay!

MUGGED WHILE POOPIN: In the dazzling shangri-la that is Saint Lucie County Florida, a 61 year-old man was mugged by two rude hooligans as he was in the midst of dropping the kids off at the pool. Stay classy, Florida.

THE POOP MONSTER OF NORTH CAROLINA (No, not Elizabeth Dole, silly!): The internets went all bananas a few weeks ago when an oozing, pulsing poop monster was filmed being all ooze-y and pulse-y in a North Carolina sewer (the video is really gross). As it turns out, it's not The Blob, but a colony of sewer worms. And now, along with our BFF Wiley Coyote, we have another reason to avoid North Carolina.

THE CAMBRIDGE POOP BABY: One day, classy dame Candy Vigneri exited a port-o-potty, lit up a ciggy and informed a dude who was about to use it next that she'd just squeezed out a baby into the terlit. The baby was rescued and Ms. Vigneri (she's single, guys!) was arrested. Seems a bitch can't pop a womb booger into the can without folks pitching a hissy these days.

NICE GIRLS DON'T POOP ON THEIR MOM: Once upon a time, Destinie Rechelle Duvall didn't always see eye to eye with her mother Patricia Ann Hacker. Sometimes, in fact, they would smack each other around. And sometimes, Destinie would kick Patricia in the head until she passed out so she could poop on her mother's back. The end.

April 08, 2009

It's been a long time since we took a stroll through the poop-centric items of interest from all corners of the globe. We've got a lot to wade through, so let's dive right in!

I WANT MY POOP: In a heartwarming gesture of thanks, someone messengered a package of poop to MTV executive Joe Cuello. We approve. It's high time MTV was given a little taste of what they've been throwing at us for decades.

HOLY DONKEY POOP: When devout Christians make a pilgrimage to Nazareth, they can purchase a souvenir to remind them of Israel; industrious types have begun selling donkey plop majestically suspended in acrylic cubes. Just what Jesus would have wanted, no doubt.

I LEFT MY POOP IN SAN FRANCISCO: The citizens of San Francisco have been jolted from their blissful stupor by a horrifying string of potty fires. An arsonist has set over 21 such blazes since November, reducing highly inflammable porto-sans to oozing piles of blue goo. The resourceful San Franciscans refuse to take it sitting down, and have organized "potty patrols." Sign up today!

THE FLYING TOILETS OF NAIROBI: The sensible sub-Saharan countries of Africa have been too busy starving, revolting and hacking each other to bits to get around to building proper facilities. "Flying toilets" are the norm in urban settings like Nairobi. Folks simply pinch a loaf into a ziplock baggie and hurl it from their house. It's been called an epidemic. In related news: there are simply oodles of travel bargains to Nairobi!

TURD BURGLARS OF LONDON:One recent morning took a distressing turn when curators at London's dazzling Natural History Museum discovered that someone had stolen a priceless hunk of dinosaur poop. Not only are 65 million-year-old fossilized titanosaurus droppings irreplaceable, they frequently wear dresses and answer to the name Camilla Parker-Bowles.

TURD BURGLARS OF LONDON, PART DEUX:Daniel Bennet's day started on the wrong foot when his lizard poop went missing. It was soon discovered that a janitor at Leeds University had tossed it out, jeopardizing Mr. Bennet's PhD candidacy. A PhD in Lizard Poop? Suddenly our degree seems sensible.

LITTLE BUNNY POO-POO: For years, Susan Bell has been contemplating what to do with her horse's poop. Eureka! The classy gal has decided to roll up her sleeves and mold it into bunny-rabbits! She sells them as dung bunnies. And she's single, guys!!

THE GOLD POOPERS OF NAGANO:It has been recently discovered that when the charming citizens of Nagano Japan drop Fat Man and Little Boy off at the pool, their poop contains gold. More gold, in fact, than the world's most productive gold mines. Grab your prospecting pans! There's gold in them thar sewers!

THE EXPLODING SEWERS OF MISSOURI: One day the sewer exploded in the glorious shangri-la of Jefferson City, Missouri. This resulted in poop coating the inside of two families' homes. Are those brownies you're baking Mrs. Cleaver?

POOP DIVER FINDS HIS KEYS: One day along US Highway 30, a man climbed down into the latrine pit of a rest stop and got stuck in the poop. Upon being rescued, he explained to the nice firemen that he'd dropped his keys and went to find them. He later found his keys in his back pocket. You meet the strangest men at rest stops, don't you Senator Craig?

KOBE BRYANT'S POOP MAID: Kobe Bryant treats maids poorly. He got a little rape-y with a hotel maid a few years ago, and now his domestic is suing the Bryants for abuse. Aside from being unpleasant and yelly, Kobe's wife made the poor woman stick her hand in a bag of dog poop. It's so hard to find good help these days.

THE POOP KIDS OF ROME: Roman police recently found hundreds of homeless immigrant children living in the sewers. Above ground, Pope Benedict made another speech against birth control before retiring to the Vatican men's room and pooping on the children.

SUSAN BELL, NAKED DOG POOP LADY: One sunny day in the idyllic hamlet of Portsmouth New Hampshire, it occurred to Susan Bell to take off her clothes and pick up dog poop in a neighborhood park. Yes, we noticed that she shares her name with the dung bunny woman, but they are not the same person. But if you ever meet a woman named Susan Bell, be sure to throw some poop at her. We have scientific proof that all Susan Bells love it.

December 04, 2008

Please, Santa...Give Me a Potty Poo Dolly:What little girl doesn't dream of waking up on Jesus' birthday and scurrying downstairs to find, beneath the tree, her very own poop machine? It seems in the enchanted kingdom of England Potty Poo Dolly tops every moppet's wish list. It cries, it whines, and when you place the hideous thing on a musical potty, simulated waste spurts from its plastic sphincter. The toy's popularity has prompted doll makers everywhere to fast-track the production of Heavy Flow Barbie (to include a dozen pairs of washable white skorts) and Bulimic American Girl, which periodically pukes into the face delighted freckle-faced girls everywhere.

Poop a la Mode: One day in the glorious nation of Australia, the Whyte family took a break from hurling boomerangs and tying kangaroos down so they could enjoy a lovely lunch at the Coogee Bay Hotel in dazzling Sydney. Unfortch, their dining experience took a sad turn for the scatological when the demure Ms. Whyte, having taken a few bites of her gellato, stood up and shrieked "Crikey! I'm eating poop!" Indeed, after the health department concluded that the gellato was "consistent with feces" the Whytes have filed a lawsuit for a gazillion dollars which reads, in part, that Ms. Whyte is so severely traumatized she can no longer wipe her son's ass. The scandal has led to a startling series of copycat events; in today's economic environment, poop-eating is surprisingly lucrative.

Bitch, whatchoo been eatin? Elsewhere in the Queen's realm (again, we must remark on how so many poop stories originate from the British Commonwealth) a charming lass by the name of Claire Jones excused herself from dinner so she could dash to the loo and wrestle with a bout of diarrhea. Howev, instead of dropping her kids off at the pool, she dropped a baby in el baño. Perturbed that her infant was a "floater" and refused to flush, Claire "Mother of the Year" Jones yanked it out, wrapped it in swaddling clothes and lovingly placed her dead baby in the trunk of her Toyota. Currently on trial for murder, she's encountering a skeptic reaction to her claim that it was the toilet which gave birth. Hey, if some Palestinian bitch can be impregnated by a dove, why can't a commode cough up a womb booger?

It's beginning to look a lot like poop: These are tough times. Everyone's feeling the pinch. So some enterprising folks at the dazzling Miller Park Zoo in Illinois have employed their two reindeer named Ealu and Rika to provide the raw materials for the must-have Yule Tide stocking stuffer of the year: glitter-encrusted reindeer turd Christmas ornaments. Because nothing celebrates the birth of Jesus better than propping up a dead tree in your living room and festooning it with Donner and Blitzen's field plop.

O Poop All Ye Faithful: The nations of the world have their own unique way of celebrating xmas. In America, children drink egg nog, have sugar-induced tantrums and rip the heads off their freshly unwrapped Tickle-me-Elmos. In Italy, they get drunk on Chianti and follow a bitch around with candles in her weave. In Pakistan, they rape a virgin, stone her for adultery and plot a terrorist attack. And in Spain, in the region of Catalonia, it's all about poop. Every nativity scene includes a caganer (or "pooper"), a darling figurine hiking up its robe and pinching a loaf into the straw. Children have endless hours of delight locating the pooper. Is it behind the wise men? Hiding betwixt Joseph and a goat? What fun! They also play a hilarious game called Caga Tió (or "pooping log"), wherein a hollow log is "fed" candy and nuts and placed under a blanket. On Christmas day, to celebrate Our Lord (and the Holy Placenta) squirting from Mary's thighs, they place the Caga Tió in the fireplace and order it to poop. When the brownish glop of melted candy and nuts squirts forth, it's Christmas!! Felíz Navidad!!

UPDATE: Rabid Whup-Ass fan Janet of dazzling Des Moines (recently outed as one of our oft-mentioned underground ninja spies), whilst shopping for faux suede, dutifully snapped this picture of a charming toy that every poop-eating child must have. Sugar plums dance no more in the noggins of your sleeping babes. No, now they dream of eating panda poop. Joyeux Noël!!

October 17, 2008

POOP IN CHURCH: One day in the dazzling metropolis of Tullytown PA, a demure flower by the name of Sandralee Banks-Kastrup decided to cleanse evil spirits from the St. Michael the Archangel Church by sauntering into the sanctuary, squatting amongst the pews, hiking up her Dress Barn skirt and pinching a loaf. Convinced that the 528 babies she believed to be buried between the church and a nearby Dunkin Donuts were making the church an unpleasant place in which to worship Jesus, Ms. Banks-Kastrup's sensible and undeniably selfless act of turd-tithing was greeted with somewhat less enthusiasm than she'd hoped. Currently lounging about in an upholstered room at Nervous Acres and clad in a canvas cardigan with wrap-around arms, Ms. Banks-Kastrup insists she simply misinterpreted the meaning behind her favorite hymn, "Bringing in the Sheaves"

LOOK AT THIS POOP: Michael Auclaire, principal of Peyton Elementary School in glorious Colorado Springs (the town in which Reverend Ted Haggard ministered to hustlers whilst engaging in meth-fueled ass-sex, and Reichen fantasized about writing a book about being raped by his fellow Air Force cadets), was disturbed. Some impish fourth grader had been terrorizing the student body by pooping with distressing lack of precision in the girls room. So Principal Auclaire put some poop in a bag and forced his students to pass it around and peer inside (presumably so they could learn what no child should leave behind). After news of his impromptu session of scatalogical show-and-tell was recounted around dinner table "so what did you learn in school today, honey" conversations, principal Auclaire admitted that forcing children to pass a bag of poop around like a reefer at a Woody Harrelson weenie roast was an ill-advised endeavor.

THROW SOME POOP AT A CHILD: Meanwhile, in the retarded nation of Canada, another school principal (a charming woman by the name of Maria Pantalone) has finally found a new job. Last year, overcome by feelings of frustration (perhaps due to a student's inability to spell "Mississippi"), she hurled some poop at a child. Although we are still unclear as to whether the poop she tossed was her own or conveniently provided by nearby fourth grader, Ms. Pantalone is apparently performing well in her new principalship. We believe in second chances, and have no doubt Principal Pantalone is savoring the opportunity to work with children again, to look into their fresh, rosy-cheeked faces, and throw poop in them.

THROW A CHILD AT SOME POOP: One day, in the gorgeous mecca that is Mpumalanga, a young woman catastrophically misinterpreted the meaning of "drop your kids off at the pool" when she tossed her baby into a South African poo pit. After the baby was de-latrined and rinsed off, the girl was arrested. In her defense she told the police that she fully intended to tell someone about it, eventually. Perhaps after doing her nails and shopping for a new dashiki. We admire her sense of urgency.

I'M GONNA SIT RIGHT DOWN AND MAIL MYSELF SOME DOG POOP: Sometimes a gal just wants some attention. Meet woman o' God and retarded Englishwoman Reverend Janet Magee. In a desperate attempt to be noticed by her Methodist congregation, she took the logical step of repeatedly sending dog plop (along with the occasional dead hedgehog) to herself through the mail. It worked like a charm; Reverend Janet basked in the warm sympathy for quite a while, until the police secretly installed surveillance cameras in her home and caught her red brown handed, clubbing hedgehogs, coercing her pooch to squat over an open FedEx box, etc. (honestly, Vicar...some women simply take up needlepoint). Since the alarming discovery of her odd poop-terror-by-proxy disorder, her congregation's sympathies have noticably waned.

"AND ON YOUR LEFT..." Residents of Providence rejoice! It's Rhode Island Water Infrastructure Month! October might mean beer and bratwurst to the Germans and dressing up like a scary vampire to Marc Anthony, but if you live in the teensy state of RI it means the sewer plant (much like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory) throws open its doors for throngs of ecstatic children queued up for hours to get a glimpse of poop processing. Remember Augustus Gloop, kids! Stand back from that brown river!

August 15, 2008

THE POOPENBURG: An enormous pile of dog poop recently became unmoored, wreaking terror and havoc in its wake. No, Rush Limbaugh didn't go off his meds. In fact, a house-sized inflatable dog poop sculpture by artist Paul McCarthy was displayed in the courtyard of a Swiss museum when a gust of wind ripped it from its tethers. Like a surreal, scatological Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, the pooch plop balloon flew the length of two football fields, taking down a power line and finally coming to rest in the playground of a childrens home. The despondent children are currently in counseling for post-traumatic stress.

GUESS WHAT? CHICKEN BUTT!! Inventors are peculiar creatures. One wonders how they get all their smart ideas. They're so inventive! Case in point: click here to marvel at the breathtaking ingenuity behind Patent No. 4899421, issued in 1990. The contraption in question was designed to vacuum the poop from the buttholes of dead chickens as they glide along the conveyor belt of a poultry processing plant. Dear inventor of Patent No. 4899421: we applaud your genius, and frankly it's a load off our mind that our McNuggets were made from chickens with clean-as-a-whistle rectums. However, we feel a sudden pang of sympathy for your family, who had to endure countless months of trial and error before you had your "eureka" moment and knew you'd created the world's first automated dead chicken ass-hoover.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: The good people of Denver would like you to know that if you decide to visit their fair city, they'd prefer it if you didn't walk around carrying poop. Thank you.

DANE COOK'S REIN OF DOG POOP TERROR: Dane Cook, the hilarious arena comedian who's dazzling career seems destined to follow the meteoric trajectory blazed by Andrew Dice Clay and Joe Piscopo, has been found guilty by a jury of his peers for terrorizing his neighbors at the La Fontaine in Beverly Hills. Mr. Cook's mini-Pinscher (cleverly named "Beast") has allegedly pooped on virtually every square inch of common area in the ultra-classy apartment complex. And the Cook-man, mega-star that he is, has taken a cue from Korea's enormously popular Dog Poop Girl by refusing to clean it up. So he's been evicted. We call "shenanigans." We rather suspect his former neighbors would happily re-endure the indignity of scraping Beast turds from the soles of their Uggs if it meant ridding themselves of the Danester.

THIS WILL GIVE YOU NIGHTMARES: No this is not an LSD flashback. It's simply a horrifying Japanese "How to Poop" Cartoon. Delight yourselves as these creepy tiger-people sing songs with their possessed toilet that instruct their aggressively obnoxious child how to properly drop Fat Man and Little Boy over poopland.

June 27, 2008

THE NAKED POOP LADIES OF EBERHOLZEN: One day, two classy broads from the German hamlet of Eberholzen decided it would be a good idea to go to a cow farm, fill up some panty hose with cow poop, and use the resulting "poop bombs" as party favors at a celebration marking the German soccer team's victory over Turkey. Unfortch, their plan went awry when they fell into a cow poop tank, crawled out, fled to the surrounding fields and discarded their clothes. Local authorities have been instructed to be on the alert for a duo of poop-smeared frauleins romping au naturale across the idyllic countryside. Are these two hot babes single? Speaking of which, has anyone seen Merkel lately? Where exactly is she? Hmmmm...

THE GEORGE BUSH POOP PLANT: Reagan and JFK got airports. Eisenhower got a tunnel. Hell, even Hoover got a dam. Now, the cheeky hell-bound liberal sodomites of San Francisco will be voting soon on whether to re-name the Oceanside Sewage Treatment Plant after our beloved leader George W. Bush. As Southern Methodist University in Texas is mounting an enormous protest against the proposed GWB presidential library, the butt-humping hippies of San Francisco seem to be 80% in favor of the Dubya Poop Plant. While cynics believe it's a partisan attempt to besmear Bush's hallowed legacy, others simply like the thought of sitting on their thunderbox and sending their poop to the Dubya with every flush, thus reversing a tiresome eight-year trend.

THE POOP HOUSES OF KARANPUR: Next time your VCR isn't working and you're losing your temper with Vishna Vindaloo (aka "Fred") on the other end of the "help" line, remember that it's entirely possible that the poor schmuck lives in a poop house. In some areas of India it's not at all unusual to find a village constructed entirely of cow flop. Cows, of course, are worshipped as deities in India; so perhaps it's considered enlightened to live in a split level bungalow made out of holy sh*t. However, isn't India hit by about 40 monsoons every other week? How exactly do cowpie cottages hold up (or not) during the rainy season? Unless they've taken to mixing cement in with Bossie's cud, this practice strikes us as highly impractical. Oh, and gross.

EAT SOME CHINESE POOP FISH: China, which has lately given the world poisonous toothpaste, lethal dog food, dangerous toys and killer pharmaceuticals, is also exporting poop fish. Aquaculture (or, the practice of farming fish) is a huge industry there. Unfortch, many of these fish farms have raw sewage dumped into them on a daily basis. Chinese fish account for a large percentage of the fish sold in the U.S. So that yummy plate of "Southern Catfish" you ordered at Bubba Gumps could very well have gills caked with "recycled" mu-shu pork, if you get our drift.

THEM OL' POOP FIELDS BACK HOME: The great state of Iowa, recently ravaged by storms and flooding, has another cross to bear. It seems that every sewage plant (and, ickily enough, hog poop reservoir, of which there are apparently oodles) overflowed and emptied into the flood waters. Health officials are now telling everyone who came in contact with floodwaters to see a doctor. We hate to add insult to injury (actually, we don't); but Deuteronomy tells us to bury our poop, because God walks among us and is HIGHLY averse to scraping our poop from his sandals. So if indeed God walks in Des Moines (as folks in Des Moines insist He does), He prolly has pig plop oozing betwixt His toes and is getting more pissed off by the second.

AND FINALLY:Zimbabwe is holding elections today. Robert Mugabe (who smells like poop, looks like poop, and turned his nation into poop) is widely expected to win, as his goons have intimidated the opposition to the point where they've withdrawn from an election they would have otherwise won. Folks are being forced at gunpoint to go to the polling centers and threatened to memorize the serial numbers of their ballots, so that their vote for Mugabe can be later verified. Misery holds dominion over this God-foresaken nation, which only a few years ago was the shining beacon of post-colonial Africa. We here at COWA are pacifists. But can't someone bust a cap in the noggin of this despotic lump of hyena crap? The world will cheer.

June 16, 2008

THE POOP SPITTER OF HUNTINGDON: An inmate in the Huntington Country correctional facility is being brought to trial on criminal harassment charges. Why? Because a year ago, in what was apparently an interactive performance art piece designed to underscore the plight of our nation's incarcerated, Anthony Gray swallowed some of his pee and poo immediately before being ushered into a room with three corrections officers. He thereupon proceeded to barf his pee and poop into their faces. His audacious performance was ill-received. One hopes the misunderstood artiste has since discovered either a non-fecal means of expression, or Scope.

TYRA'S TOILET TIPS: As Bobby Brown proved when, on national television, he related the enchanting tale of how he crammed his arm all the way to the elbow up Whitney's butthole in a chivalrous attempt to dislodge a jack-knifed turd (and also, we presume, to search for that missing crack pipe), Americans have a deep fascination with the bathroom habits of prominent negroes. Always one to capitalize on a fad, Tyra Banks has graciously shared her secret tips on how to squat in a public facility without endangering your butt or your panties. Her unashamed willingness to talk about such topics apparently emboldened a misguided contestant on "America's Next Top Model" to make pee-pee in a pair of adult diapers in a decidedly odd attention-grabbing gambit. Because as Marc Jacobs or Karl Lagerfeld will tell you, urine is the new black.

RUSSIAN SPACE TOILET ON THE FRITZ: Zero gravity has many advantages. One may do the hippity-dippity Moonraker-style, for instance. Girlie-boobs and man-boobs are notably perkier. But the astronauts currently confined to the international space station for a months-long assignment are learning the downside of weightlessness because their Russian-made toilet is all broke and stuff. When a space toilet is defunct, jiggling the handle doesn't do the trick. These are complicated pieces of equipment, which whisk extra-terrestrial pants plop into special holding tanks (which, once full, are presumably jettisoned to plummet into Bangladesh or Tuscaloosa or some equally malodorous slum where no one's likely to notice). Now that it's broken, the space folks have had to think of new and inventive ways to drop the kids off at the pool, as they are all eager to avoid the unpleasant notion of wrangling a herd of turds as it drifts into the lab. These are the ultimate "floaties." We now ask the obv: why did we put the toilet in the hands of Russian scientists? Didn't they give us Chernobyl, the Kursk, the Mir and Uri Geller? They even took a diverting game like roulette and made it decidedly unpleasant. If it were up to us (as we rather think it should have been), the Russians would be in charge of Vodka detail. And maybe they could have been responsible for the dressing used on space salads. But that's it. Thankfully, the last shuttle mission included what's likely to be the most expensive plumber's appointment ever. Send the bill to Putin (pronounced "poo-tin").

THE PORT-O-POTTY SWIMMER OF LEBANON: One hot day in the dazzling metropolis that is Lebanon PA, a 31-year-old gentleman decided it would be a good idea to lock himself in a port-o-potty, remove his clothes, and go for a swim. Unfortch, his blithe dip hit a snag when the poor schlemazl got stuck. He was somehow able to reach his cell phone (kids, if you're going to swim a few laps in an outhouse, always bring your phone; a safe poo-swimmer is a happy poo-swimmer), whereupon the fire department was summoned. After his thrilling jaws-of-life rescue, the scrappy gent was charged with public intoxication and creating a public nuisance. No word yet on whether the prosecutors intend to charge him with being a nasty-ass bastard.

DRESSING FOR SUCCESS, THE CHARLOTTE WAY: Meet Artive Freeman. The 24-year-old gentleman is currently representing himself in a murder trial now underway in gorgeous downtown Charlotte. On the first day of trial, Mr. Freeman entered the courtroom in a nicely tailored suit and tie. He had also smeared his own poop all over his face and hair. Taken aback by Mr. Freeman's copropheliac grooming habits, the Judge questioned whether Mr. Freeman was maybe a tad retarded (ya THINK?), and ordered the nice young man to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. Perhaps he's learned that rich folks are enjoying nightingale poop facials in the world's most exclusive spas. Alas, nightingales are frightfully rare in maximum security. The resourceful gentleman, making allowances for his complexion, bunted.

THE POOP TRIAL OF LOS ANGELES: In other news of legal/fecal (lecal?) intrigue, one Ira Isaacs is about to go on trial for obscenity in Los Angeles county (isn't that like prosecuting a man for being an alcoholic in Dublin?). The prosecutor has promised to torment the poor jurors by subjecting them to Isaac's cheeky oeuvre, which includes fart fetish movies, classy bitches taking turns giving it up for a donkey, and (most importantly) pooping on each other. Although Mr. Isaacs has expressed worry that the jurors will send him to prison for being nasty, others suggest that since his LA-based video business does a killing, at least some of the jurors will be forced to sit through their second (third, fourth, fifth, etc) viewing of "Hollywood Scat Amateurs No. 7" (more widely known as "Hannah Montana").

May 20, 2008

JURASSIC POOP: At a recent auction in New York, a chunk of dinosaur plop sold for $960. In a related story, John McCain's campaign finance people have asked the superannuated wife-honorer to stop flushing his Geritol-enriched loafs.

POOP THE FRIENDLY SKIES: Gokhan Mutlu is suing JetBlue. Why? Because the pilot, in a scene that recalls Bogie's "strawberries" scene in "The Caine Mutiny," informed the oddly-named air traveler that a stewardess wanted to sit in his seat, so he'd have to ride the toilet from San Diego to JFK. When Mutlu objected, the pilot threw a diva-riffic "I'm the boss of this plane and you have to do what I say" tantrum, so Gokhan had to go to the can for the remainder of the flight. Unfortch, as we know, most toilets don't come equipped with seatbelts (although Tammy Lewis in the following story might have found such an innovation useful). So when the plane hit some turbulence, poor Mr. Mutlu was shaken about in the flying outhouse like beans in a maraca. The upside? In addition to his lucrative lawsuit payday, Mutlu (covered head to toe in that odd toxic airplane toilet water) now enjoys the honorary title of "Mr. JetBlue."

GONNA BE IN THERE MUCH LONGER, GAM-GAM? Here's a bedtime story for the kiddies: Once upon a time (March 4, to be exact), in the dazzling kingdom of Necedah WI, whilst Tammy Lewis was in the loo helping grandma into her depends, the old bird started acting all dead-ish. Tammy, concerned with her mother's dignity, propped the dirt-bound oldster on the can and consulted her spiritual mentor (one "Bishop Bushey"), who told her to leave dead granny on the toilet, cause Jesus was gonna make her less dead and stuff. Fast forward to May 10: Gam-gam still stubbornly continuing her tiresome "dead-lady" act, rudely decomposing and stinking up the loo. Evench, a sheriffs deputy happened upon the wacky Lewis household and decided that Tammy's children might benefit from not living with gam-gam's corpse. P.S. We particularly appreciate the fact that we found this morsel in the "Family" section of an Orlando news site.

THE POTTY BUDDIES OF NORTH CAROLINA: In an effort to combat the problem of rude grade schoolers scrawling things like "Miss Blodgept is a poop eater" in their school bathrooms, the principal of Malpass Corner Elementary has issued the following edict: students may no longer poop alone. Instead, they must drop their kids off at the pool in pairs or as a class. As a class?? One hardly suspects rounding up the kiddies for en masse synchronized poop time will promote good behavior. Be that as it may, we suppose we shouldn't be surprised. North Carolina, after all, is a notoriously Republican state. And we know by now how much the Godly GOP likes group scenes in public restrooms. Best condition our future wife-honorers at an early age how to appreciate the time-honored Christian tradition of the wide-stanced cripple stall buddy system.

THE KOSHER POOP RIVERS OF PALESTINE: Sixty years ago, the founders of Israel decided to create a state devoted to Jewish custom, thus ending the mistreatment of a sorely oppressed people. So they bulldozed the homes of Palestine and shipped their previous owners to concentration refugee camps. Since then, the Palestinians have been generally irritable, rudely throwing rocks at tanks and wearing explode-y strap-ons on cross-town buses. In fact, when Palestinians were graciously allowed to vote on their own leadership, and Israel didn't care for the result, Israel reacted by (among other things) blocking shipment of much needed infrastructure supplies to Gaza, resulting in overtaxed septic systems and consequentially the occasional deadly poop tsunami. Meanwhile, over in the West Bank (aka where Jesus was born), there are dozens of walled Jewish settlements scattered hither and yon. Unfortch, these settlements couldn't be bothered with creating proper sewers, so they simply pipe their poop into the surrounding Palestinian country side. Here's the deal: while we can't claim to understand the mysteries of Jewish custom, Israel gets props for being one of the few places in the Middle East where gays can exist (and a pervy lot the Israeli gays are, btw) without the authorities acting all hang-y, and women can drive cars without fear of being stoned to death. Howev, one doubts that its policy of flooding the farms surrounding Bethlehem with Kosher Jew poo is the best olive branch to extend for a meaningful truce, nor does it support the assertion that Israel is the rightful caretaker of The Holy Land. We're just sayin.

April 29, 2008

MUNCHAUSEN BY POOPSIE:Munchausen-by-proxy is a psychological disorder, whereby someone (typically a mother) craves attention so they make their little poopsie-kins sick (at last, light is shed on Britney's habitual "drop my toddlers on their noggins" gambit). In one recent case, a woman in the enchanted kingdom of Australia (where dingos chow on infants like Alpo) supposed she might get some sympathy if she injected some poop into her profoundly unfortunate baby. When the child got gravely ill, doctors found a syringe o' sewage in the woman's handbag. Confronted, this candidate for Mother of the Year asserted that beelzebub made her do it. She has since taken up residence in a generously upholstered suite at the local nut bin. If she returns to a state of mental equanimity, one suspects she's doomed to lose every argument she ever has with the issue of her retarded uterus. Even the simplest spat is likely to end thus: "yeah, well...you shot poop into my veins; take the trash out yourself, hag."

THE POOP ZAPPERS OF UTAH: In a spectacular act of guerilla conceptual art, three teens from Utah (the state that gave the world Rosanne Barr, The Mountain Meadows Massacre, and Donny Osmond) decided to enter a convenience store, plop a one-gallon baggie of human poop in the microwave, set the timer for ten minutes, and make their exit. The baggie exploded, the microwave ruined, and that particular Seven-Eleven temporarily became a rather unpleasant place to purchase slim-jims and big-gulps. We applaud this audacious artistic statement, which we interpret as a scathingly brilliant reaction to the sterility of chain-store-and-strip-mall suburbia.

DAYUM, HO! WHATCHOO BEEN EATIN? A late entry into the "Mother of the Year" contest has entered the ring. Meet Ritsuko Taniguchi, a Japanese broad who squeezed a baby into the toilet and, in a spasm of maternal affection, tried to flush. Unfortch, her baby was a floater, and ended up clogging the poor woman's commode. Distraught by her inconvenient plumbing malfunction, she wiggled into her Hello Kitty kimono and rang for an expert who met Ms. Taniguchi's claim that the clog was a baby doll with skepticism (a lucky strike; the toilet blockage could easily have been mistaken for Hasbro's recent sensation "Baby Bloo-lips"). Ritsuko is currently performing in live-action re-enactments of girl-on-girl yuri hentai 'toons with Oki Fanoki, convicted star of the underworld cult of lesbian Sumo wrestling.

THE GREAT G.O.P. POOP DRIVE: Tom Cole, recently-annointed chairman of the National Republican Congressional Committee, is tasked with the responsibility of asking for donations from our great nation's elephant/Jesus party. Eager to return even a small fraction of what our dear leader has been shoveling down our gullets for the last 7 years, one respondant pinched a loaf into the post-paid response envelope and sent it back to Congressman Cole. The Republicans immediately deposited the envelope's contents into their piggy bank, as the donation's worth surpasses the value of the dollar, long since flushed down the crapper by Bushonomics.

SAY IT WITH POOP: Had it up to here with your uppity in-laws? Are there no words in the English language to adequately express how you feel about your ex boss? What can one give to the man who has everything (and makes a point of reminding you of the fact on a daily basis)? Enter Poopsenders, an ingenious new service that offers a menu of poo-quets one can order sent in complete anonymity to someone who truly has it coming. For inst, say you've had your fill of Sally Kern's hateful rhetoric. Thirty-two bucks will deliver a one-gallon package of elephant plop to her address at 2300 N. Lincoln Blvd/Rm 332, Oklahoma City, OK 73105. Or suppose you've grown weary of the Ken Hutcherson's endless stream of anti-gay bigotry? A quart of gorilla loaf can be mailed for about 25 clams to the Right Reverend's attention at the Antioch Bible Church, 15135 NE 92nd St./Suite 240, Redmond WA 98052. Curse you, Poopsenders! We should have thought of this first!

March 24, 2008

THE SPRINKLE BRIGADE: One day some sensitive (and maladjusted, one assumes) artistes got together and decided it would be a good idea to devote their lives to finding dog poop in the street and decorating it with plastic army men, toy horsies, etc. In other societies, or in simpler times, their bizarre hobby would have earned them an all-expense-paid trip to the Bedlam Club Med. However, oddly enough, their calling has found its niche; this last December, the guerrilla pooch plop aficionados had a show at the Riviera Gallery in NYC, which was swarmed by flocks of poo-starved coprophelial sculpture enthusiasts. They have also published their first book, for those of you whose parlors need only a dog poo art coffee table book to be ready for its Metropolitan Home cover shoot. We find their work to be a scathing commentary on the Bush administration, in that they've discovered a way to dress up poop and sell it to the public.

HERE, HAVE SOME POO CAKE: Last month in Cardiff, UK ("This Week in Poop" regulars will recognize that the Queen's realm has an abnormal propensity to generate poo news of note), a customer bought a chocolate cake at a pizzeria. Noting its odd aroma and its nutty palate, the suspicious cake eater brought baked confection to local health authorities who discovered that the shop's proprietors had rudely sprinkled human poo on the otherwise lovely gateaux. Although a cursory glance through chocolate cake recipes offered by Epicurious make no mention of this innovative ingredient, we can totally picture Martha providing some, um, organic frosting to a cake before sending it to Rachel Ray with her compliments.

ARE YOU GOING TO BE IN THERE MUCH LONGER? Two years ago, Pam Babcock of Wichita decided she didn't want to leave her bathroom. In the intervening years, her enabling boyfriend brought her food, water and clothing making her self-imposed crapper exile possible. Unfortch, having spent much of that time sitting on the throne, the classy bitch's ass melded to the seat. When paramedics where called after she became disoriented, the toilet/woman hybrid had to be wheeled into the hospital intact, whereupon a team of expert surgeons extracted the seat from her ass. Ms. Babcock is currently indisposed in hospital. No word yet as to whether she intends to return to her tiled realm, but our advice to her boyfriend is to use the loo while it's available. And while he's in there, it wouldn't hurt to burn a match or two.

HAVE YOURSELF A POOPY LITTLE CHRISTMAS: On Christmas eve, as much of the world was preparing to celebrate the birth of baby Jesus, an old geezer by the name of Robert Schoff took a stroll out to his septic tank to find the source of a clog. Unfortch, he lost his balance and fell into the opening, getting stuck. His wife alleges that she noticed his feet kicking in the air about an hour later, then promptly called the sheriff's department who rescued the unfortunate sap. But we secretly suspect she watched as it happened, giggling at the kitchen window as she sipped her eggnog delighted by her husband's scatological misfortune. We further suspect she used up several rolls of film on snapshots of that particular Kodak moment before alerting authorities. That'll learn him for giving her a chia pet last year.

THE WISCONSIN LAUNDRY POOPER: Ronnie Ballard, a totally well-adjusted citizen of Madison, Wisconsin, has issues with his neighbors. So rather than buying a gun and pumping their fannies full of lead, he opted to express his frustrations by embarking on an inter-active conceptual art piece. Mr. Ballard pooped in his neighbors' laundry. He pooped in their shoes. He pooped in their hallways. Unfortch (not many "This Week in Poop" stories are fortunate, are they?) he was caught. In the highly entertaining criminal complaint posted on The Smoking Gun, one object of his targeted poop campaign (a retarded woman by the name of Felicia Walton), proclaimed that she "had not given" Mr. Ballard "permission to defecate in her Reeboks, and was therefore disturbed." While we're disturbed by the notion that Ms. Walton can conceive of a circumstance when such permission would be forthcoming, we are delighted by the judge's instructions to Mr. Ballard to henceforth "only defecate in toilets."

THE SQUAT TOILETS OF BEIJING: China has poop issues. They make Olympic souvenirs out of panda poop. They have recently passed an ordinance disallowing food vendors to operate in public toilets. Renegade future breakaway nation Taiwan has a popular poo-themed restaurant chain. Their relationship with poop differs from ours, just as their willingness to see a labrador as a potential entree. You see, the Chinese poop standing up. Rather, most public toilets are "squat toilets" with no seats. And when the International Olympic Committee discovered that many of the thousands of public facilities being built to accommodate the games were of the "squat" variety, Beijing was forced to race against time to replace them with sitting models. We westerners are culturally adverse to the squat-like-a-defensive-lineman loaf-pinching method, rather we prefer to sit whilst dropping the kids off at the pool. Just ask Pam Babcock.

WELCOME TO POO LAKE: There is a neighborhood in Baghdad in which mansions are strewn hither and yon; it was once the enclave of Hussein's inner circle. Now, however, with the nearby presence of US troops, many displaced Iraqis have made these abandoned palaces their home. Unfortch (again with the "unfortch!") the sewer system has long been defunct. So this erstwhile playground of the rich and murderous, transformed by rivers of blood as the war broke out, finds itself transformed yet again by rivers of poop. And although the advancing shores of what the jarheads laughingly call "Poo Lake" are of some concern, the new residents take solace in the fact that few suicide bombers will venture there. In Iraq, poop equals peace. Isn't that right, Mr. Cheney?

AMBER WAVES OF POOP: Livestock farmers across this glorious nation of ours have taken to feeding poop to their animals. Chicken poop gets fed to cattle, cow poop to pigs, pig poop to chickens, which in turn get turned into McNuggets for your delectable consumption. In fact, to cite just one example, JP Fontenot (VA Polytech/Animal Poultry Science) determined that 2 million tons of chicken splat is served to our beef cattle annually, whose diets now consist of nearly %70 poultry waste. This bold new science is being exported by the UN, touting the use of "recycled animal waste" in livestock feed. Dig into that McWhopper!